The Phantom
by Clopin K. Trouillefou
Summary: Professor Xavier picks up a new mutant signature in Paris, France. But this isn't exactly your average mutant...
1. 1881

The Phantom remained unconscious and unmoving for hours, his precious Siamese, who had fled underneath his piano, by his side. She nuzzled his head, lifting it off the floor slightly only for it to fall once she stopped. Unable to rouse him, she curled up beside his still body, licking his face with her rough pink tongue. The infamous Ghost stirred with a moan, his eyes flickering open after what seemed an eternity. As he did, he thanked every deity he knew of for finally ending his misery and tried to get up. Feeling chose, at that moment, to return to his bruised and battered body and shot through him. He became aware that his body was in far too much pain and far too weak to support his slight weight at all. Yet somehow he managed to drag himself from the main room to his bedroom and into the bed he had replaced his coffin with after Christine's arrival.

The former Living Corpse wanted nothing more than to lay his wasted, weary body down to rest for eternity. Never had he felt so tired or desired sleep so much; once he managed to drag the whole of his body into his bed, he remained panting from the effort. Ayesha leapt onto the bed and curled up flush against his body, how he wished he had the strength to stroke her fur. But the fact was pure and simple: he did not, he had no strength left in his body especially from dragging himself to his room. His breathing and heart slowing, he closed his eyes and drifted into a deep, serene slumber…


	2. Welcome to the 21st century

"New mutant signature detected," was the first thing Cerebro said.

Professor Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair, hands clasped in thought; a new mutant had been found.

"Cerebro," he commanded, "Identify the location of this new signature."

"Paris, France," the computer responded.

The disabled founder of the Xavier Institute left Cerebro and made his way to the kitchen where he knew his students were eating breakfast. The younger ones were already heading out the door to school, but a few of the older ones were still eating. That bunch was attending college and it was Tuesday, coincidentally a regular day without classes. Those pupils included Kitty Pryde, Kurt Wagner, Rogue, Scott Summers, and Jean Grey. The three boys looked like they had just gotten up, while the girls, though still in their pajamas, had apparently been up.

"Good morning, Professor," Kitty greeted him cheerily.

"Good, you're all up," their teacher commented, "I want all of you prepped and in the Black Bird within the hour."

"What's up, Professor?" Kurt yawned.

"We're taking a little trip to Paris," was the reply.

So it was within the appointed time that the group had changed into their uniforms and boarded the Black Bird. Scott, code named Cyclops, sat in the pilot's seat as usual and started the jet up as Xavier entered the coordinates into the navigational system.

The figure in the bed stirred for the first time in more than a century; the Phantom had reawakened at last. His eyes slowly fluttered open, then closed again as he stretched his stiff muscles, moaning as he did so. Though stiff from years of slumber, his body had healed from the wounds of that night's beating. His hand rested on a skeleton; he looked down at it, gently stroking it in affection. It was all that was left of his precious Ayesha, his treasured Siamese; he slipped the diamond collar from around her neck. Slowly he rose, making his way to his chest of drawers, and fetched some fresh clothes, unspoiled by the years as a result of the tightly sealed entrance. Then he made his way to his bathroom to bathe, the warm water soothing his stiff form. As he shakily rose from the water, his weak legs gave way, and he fell to the floor. He realized how weak he had become, became aware of a gnawing hunger and raw thirst. He can't have slept long enough to bring about these symptoms… could he?

Kitty, code named Shadow Cat, looked out the window eagerly; she could hardly contain her excitement at the chance to see the City of Light. Kurt, a.k.a. NightCrawler, had fallen asleep while Rogue was staring bored out the window. Finally they landed, and headed into Paris itself, Xavier concentrating on the mind of this new individual. He led the group to a large structure in the very heart of the city: _le Palais Garnier_.

"Whoa," Kitty gasped, "Like, what is this place?"

"This was once the _Opera Populaire_," Xavier replied, "I believe our mutant is in here somewhere. All of you split up into pairs and use caution."

The team set off, Scott and Jean staying close to the professor, Kitty and Rogue going one way, and Kurt another. Meanwhile, a dark figure wandered the halls of the old opera house in awe of the changes he had found. The Phantom had again risen, though weaker, and had managed to get to his feet and move about. There were strange people in his Opera: women dressed in rough looking trousers, foreigners being shown around by well-dressed attendants. He approached one of these escorts cautiously, keeping his fedora low to cover the right side of his face.

"_Perdonnez__ moi_, _monsieur_," he said, "_Quelle est la date_?"

"_C'est__ le _2_ septembre _2003," the young man replied.

"_Merci_," the former Ghost muttered, before walking away, "2003? The early 21st century? _Mon dieu_…I was asleep for 122 years? _Impossible_."

Xavier spotted a dark figure walking rather hurriedly away from one of the ushers that gave tours. He pointed the figure out to Jean and Scott.

"I believe that is our man," he remarked, "Both of you wait here."

He approached the figure now standing in the shadows leaning against a pillar for support; the Phantom put a hand to his head, feeling light-headed and weak.

"Are you all right?" a voice queried from behind, causing him to turn.

"_Oui_,_ non_…" the Ghost stammered, unsure of what to say, "_Je__ ne se pas_."

"You do not look well, _monsieur_," Xavier commented.

"No, I… do not expect so," the man returned.

His legs were beginning to shake, his entire body was quaking, and everything seemed to be spinning… so dizzy… Without warning, the dark form collapsed, the professor's hand outstretched to him. Luckily, there was no one else in the area, so no attention had been attracted.

"Scott, Jean," Xavier called across the foyer.

"What's up, Professor?" Scott asked as they hurried over.

"I'm afraid he's collapsed," the professor explained, "I do not think he is well."

Scott bent to pick up the unconscious body and headed back to the Black Bird while Xavier and Jean gathered the rest of their team.

The Opera Ghost's eyes fluttered open to see a blue face hovering over him, the pale yellow orbs curious. He gave a start, sitting up, and the face retreated, revealing a young boy, perhaps in his teens.

"Whoa, easy, man," the blue figure said, pushing the Phantom back on the pillows, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Wh-where am I?" he asked, mentally noting the German accent.

"Don't worry, you're safe," the youth assured, "You're at the Xavier Institute, in New York."

"New York?" the man questioned, "Is that not in America?"

"Yeah."

"How- how did I get here?"

"You fainted, so the Professor brought you here."

"The professor?"

"Professor X, well, Xavier. He's the one who built this place, it's a special school for mutants."

"Mutants? What are… mutants?"

"Umm… never mind, I'm sure he'll explain it."

The blue boy turned to the side, taking a tray off the bedside table, a bowl of hot soup and a teapot on it.

"Here, gotcha some hot soup and Professor X figured you'd like some tea," he offered with a friendly smile, showing a pair of fangs, "I'm Kurt, Kurt Wagner, by the way."

"_Merci_," the weakened Ghost replied, accepting the offered food.

"What's your name?" Kurt queried.

"My-my name?" he stammered, dropping the spoon in his hand.

"Yeah," the blue figured affirmed, picking the dropped instrument up.

"Erik, my name is Erik."

"Erik… huh, cool."

He sat on the bed next to Erik, facing him, as the newcomer ate, then poured himself a cup of tea.

"You said your name is Erik," Kurt said, "what about a last name?"

Erik rested the cup on the tray, lowering his eyes, and stared at the blanket covering him.

"I-I don't have one," he muttered, eyes closing and brow knit.

"Why not?" his companion wondered, tilting his head in confusion.

"Because," came the response, a scowl distorting his features, "I never knew it."

"You… don't know your own last name?"

"No."

"Can I ask why?"

"_May_ you ask why," a deep sigh, "Because my mother abhorred me, she wanted nothing to do with me, cared for me only out of obligation."

"Wow, she never loved you?"

"No," Erik whispered.

"How come?"

Erik regarded him carefully, noting the unique features and mentally cataloging what he saw: blue fur, pointed ears, three fingers on each hand, two toes on each foot, and long thin tail with a spade on the end.

Experience and life had long since drilled into him the need to trust no one to the point that it was second nature. Yet… this boy was very different, in all probability he had been shunned by humanity just as Erik himself had always been. He felt a kinship to this youngster, both so different, considered inhuman, demons, by mankind. He had once felt the same toward the Gypsies, but they proved as bad as his mother if not worse. But this strange creature was talking informally with him as one being to another, as an equal. He lifted a hand to the right side of his face, his fingers stroking the smooth surface of the half mask of white leather. He desperately longed to spill his heart out to another, anyone, to get his story out in the open, to remove the weight of his past from his shoulders. It was a heavy burden and he was tired of suffering it alone. He came to a difficult decision with which he seriously questioned his sanity.

"I will show you," he finally answered, "On the condition that you tell no one. I don't expect you to bear it; I cannot even bear to look upon myself. But I am putting my trust in you, do not betray that."

"I won't tell a soul," Kurt swore honestly, his right hand over his heart, left hand raised.

Erik lifted his hands, hesitated, then reached to the back of his head and untied the ribbons holding his prison in place. Slowly, eyes clenched shut, he removed it, laying it in his lap, allowing the youth to see his face fully. Kurt's eyes widened in shock, his mouth an 'O', as he gazed upon the horror that he beheld. All right, maybe that was exaggerating; though grotesque, he'd been expecting far worse. The flesh was like yellow parchment, rough and unevenly colored, his cheekbone protruded through the taut flesh. His right eye was sunken in its socket, the flesh dark as from lack of sleep, a network of blue arteries and maroon veins visible beneath the tightly stretched skin. The right side of his lower lip thick as though swollen; Kurt wondered if the nerves were functional at all, if Erik could smile, etc. Curiously, hardly aware of what he was doing, he reached out to feel the deformed membrane, his fingers barely brushing Erik's cheek. Suddenly, the man jerked back as though he had been struck, his eyes opening, filled with enraged fear.

Seeing that the sudden flare of temper would not ebb, Kurt rose quickly from the bed, backing away. Seeing the alarm in those yellow orbs, Erik calmed, coming back to himself, ashamed that he had frightened the lad when he had really done nothing wrong.

"I apologize," he said quietly, turning his head away, "I had no reason to have reacted in such a way, you've done nothing to deserve it. I am truly sorry."

Kurt let out a sigh of relief and again approached the bed, then felt pity for the lost soul, unsure of what had happened that Erik had reacted that way simply to gentle contact. Whatever it was that had caused such a trigger, it must have been tragic.

"It's okay, man," he assured Erik, "I'm sorry for…"

"No," Erik interrupted, "There's no reason for you to apologize. It is enough to me that you did not run. How you can still look upon me, speak to me as an equal is quite beyond me."

"What do you mean?"

"All my life, I was treated as an animal, no, worse than that. Twice I was imprisoned in a cage in traveling fairs."

He launched into his life, severely shortened, how he'd been held captive, locked in a cage, how he'd been beaten and abused, the time his keeper had almost raped him, his years in Persia. Then the story of how he came to Paris and the Opera, about Christine and that painful episode. He ended with how he'd been beaten after the incident of that fateful night when he'd stolen Christine from the stage and had dragged himself to his bed and fallen asleep.


	3. Secrets of the Past

Days crept by as Erik regained his strength and his health; as a matter of fact, Xavier was surprised at the speedy recovery. Soon, the Phantom was back on his feet, disappearing and appearing at random, as was his habit. He and Kurt developed a strong bond, the young blue mutant quickly bringing out the newcomer's better aspects. To the other students, Erik seemed cold and distant, not someone they wanted to be anywhere near. Kurt was the only one he let in, the only one he allowed to get close; thus the Fuzzy Dude was the only friend he had made in more than a century.

"Hey, Kurt!" Kitty called to him as he walked down the hall.

"'Sup, Kitty?" he greeted her with a smile.

"Where you going?" she asked.

"I have to see how Erik's doing," he answered.

Professor Xavier had chosen Kurt to watch over Erik while he recuperated, seeing as the two got along well and Kurt was the only one Erik was friendly with. He had also agreed to let Erik bunk with him until they had a room ready for the former Opera Ghost.

"What is up with you and that freak?" Rogue wondered, coming up behind Kurt.

"Hey, lay off!" he snapped, "Using that logic we're all freaks."

"She's got a point, Kurt," Kitty interjected, "The guy wears a mask and tux all the time, he's not really sociable, and he like totally gives me the creeps."

"How come you seem to be the only one that can stand him?" Rogue queried.

"C'mon, man," Kurt said, "He's not that bad."

"You're, like, the only one he'll talk to!" Kitty exclaimed.

The blue youngster shrugged and walked away, heading to his room where Erik habitually shut himself away during the day. They did have a point; Kurt was the only one Erik talked to, everyone else took one look into his cold eyes and avoided him. So Erik remained hidden from human eyes and contact, coming out at night after everyone had retired. He had always been a creature of the night, darkness was his friend; it protected him from prying eyes. A knock came at the door, snapping him out of his reverie, as he looked toward it in a slight state of alarm.

"_Est-ce qui_?" he called.

"It's me, Kurt," came the answer.

"_Entrez-vous_," Erik responded with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, man," he greeted his masked companion, "How's it hanging?"

"You know," Erik said, turning to him, "I find this lingo of yours rather… confusing."

"So whatcha up to?" Kurt asked, scratching his head, when he spied the open notebook on the desk, "What're you doing, rather?"

"Writing a bit of a dictionary," he answered, writing down Kurt's earlier question.

"A dictionary of what?" his cerulean friend inquired.

"21st century lingo," Erik replied, "What does 'how's it hanging' mean?"

"Oh, y'know, how are you."

"Ah." He wrote it down.

"Listen, Erik."

"Hm?"

"Well, uh, I was talking to Kitty and Rogue…"

Erik turned in his chair to face Kurt, "Who are they?"

"Kitty's the one with brown hair and uses 'like' and 'totally' a lot. Rogue's the one with dark reddish brown hair with white bangs who dresses Gothic all the time."

"Oh, those two young ladies. Kitty's rather lovely, Rogue is, well, for lack of a better word, unique."

"Yeah, well… look, anyway, they brought up a good point."

"Which would be?" a black eyebrow quirked beneath his waving black bangs.

"You don't talk to anyone beside me. You always seem cold and distant around everyone else."

"What's your point?" Erik was getting testy.

"Look, Erik, you're going to have to interact with these people. We're your team! You have to learn to trust all of us and the only way is for you to talk to them, let them get to know you."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, all right!"

He stormed out of the room, onto the balcony, yet when Kurt followed, his friend had disappeared. Erik climbed to the highest point on the roof and looked out over the land beyond, as the horrors of his past took hold of his mind. He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms as his strong form shook with the force of his near-hysterical sobs.

Erik sat, his broad frame weak under the weight of his sorrow, until the sun set, painting the sky in an array of colors. Still he sat, his sobs hardly subsiding, when the stars began to dot the darkening sky. He was finally growing tired and weary from his outburst, when he heard a voice in his mind.

"Who's there?" he demanded startled, looking around him.

"Erik, calm down," the voice answered, "You must be aware by now of my own abilities."

"_Professeur_?" he asked, mentally.

"Yes," Xavier replied, "Erik, please, come speak to me. Let me know your mind."

"I can't do that," he whispered.

"Erik, I know you do not trust mankind, but please, let me help you. You can trust me."

"I… I realize that… and I do."

"Then let me help you, let me know your mind. You are suffering, Erik, you're soul and mind are filled with sorrow and pain. There is too much there, I can help you if you will only let me. Allow me to take these things off your mind, permit me to relieve them, to lighten the weight you carry. Come speak with me."

"Very well, perhaps you are right, perhaps it will help."

He rose and made his way inside, the students throwing him a wary glance as he walked down the hall. He rapped gently on the door of Xavier's office, the voice within calling for him to enter.

"Ah, Erik," the professor said, "I'm a bit surprised you actually came as soon as you did."

"Spare me," he remarked.

"Very well," Xavier sighed.

Erik sat on the couch as the Institute's founder rolled from his desk to sit facing the man who called himself the Phantom.

"Help me," Erik implored, the full weight of his sorrow clear in his eyes.

"I have every intention of doing so," Xavier assured him, "Close your eyes and relax, Erik. Clear your mind, let me see into its depths."

He did as requested, allowing the Professor to see into the darkest reaches of his mind, down to the terrors of his life.


	4. New Discoveries

That night, Kurt had one hell of a time trying to sleep; Erik was making rest difficult. The Fuzzy Dude felt more sympathetic than annoyed as his companion tossed and turned fitfully in slumber. He sat up, watching the figure next to him intently, as he became aware of Erik's mumbling.

"No… leave me alone…" he murmured, curling into a tight ball.

His body jerked as pained moans passed his lips, his arms raised in self-defense, as though some invisible force was beating him. His jerking subsided, though his form was now shaking with the intensity of his sobs.

"Want to go home… hate this… cage…" Erik whimpered.

"Erik," Kurt whispered, shaking his friend's shoulder, "Erik, wake up. Erik? ERIK!"

Erik bolted upright, panting, obviously panicked, as he looked around, seeming unsure of where he was.

"Erik!" Kurt said, grasping Erik's arm, "It's OK, it's OK. You're safe. There is no cage, you're at the Xavier Institute, OK?"

"Kurt?" he questioned, still somewhat panicked, "Thank God…"

Without warning, Erik fell against the azure figure beside him, wrapping his arms around him. Suddenly he pulled back, appalled at himself, wondering why he had dared to do such a thing.

"I… apologize, Kurt," he stammered, rising from the bed.

Before Kurt could utter a word, Erik slipped from the room to his perch on the roof, taking a spare blanket with him.

Kurt was sound asleep when Kitty and Rogue entered his room and shook him awake.

"Kurt," Kitty whispered, "Kurt!"

"Wake up, Blue Boy!" Rogue called in his ear.

"ACK!" he woke with a start, "_Vas_?"

"Do hear that?" Kitty asked.

"Hear what?" Kurt yawned.

"Listen," the brown haired girl answered.

He listened; in the night came a heavenly voice, such that would make angel's weep at its beauty, sounding like it came from the balcony of Kurt's room.

"Oh, that," he yawned again, "That's just Erik."

"Erik?" Kitty questioned.

"That masked freak who bunks with you?" Rogue put in.

"Yes, him," Kurt answered, rolling his eyes at Rogue's 'freak' comment.

"You're not, like weirded out or anything?" Kitty queried.

"_Nein_, he has some sleepless nights," Kurt sat up, "So he goes out on the balcony and sings. Haven't you heard it before?"

"Well, yeah," she answered, "but it usually comes from the roof. Well, night!"

"G'night," Rogue said as she and Kitty headed out.

Kurt yawned a response, then his head dropped back into his pillow as he went back to sleep. The next morning, everyone was summoned bright and early to the Danger Room, where they did their training. The X-Men, including the newer kids, all gathered in the control room, Erik stood below in the Danger Room itself with Wolverine and Storm. Erik was dressed in his full Phantom regalia, Wolverine in his uniform with a smug grin on his face.

"All right," Xavier's voice echoed through the room from the intercom, "What we're going to do is test Erik, see exactly what his powers are. Ready?"

"Ready whenever you are, Chuck," Wolverine replied smugly.

"Ready, Charles," Storm answered.

The two mutants stood to the side as the automated defenses came on, Erik deftly dodging the lasers and other obstacles. A cybertronic soldier snuck up behind, but in a flash, Erik pulled his deadliest and signature weapon from a hidden depository in his cloak. The rope flew through the air, looping around the droid's neck and he gave the lasso a jerk, the machine's head coming off.

The team watched in awe as Erik evaded attacks and the automated defense systems with seeming ease.

"Whoa," Kitty uttered, "Look at him go. He's going to make a good addition to the team with powers like that!"

"He's not using his powers," the professor replied, "Well done, Erik, you've gotten past the automated defenses let's see how do against actual opponents."

Wolverine dove at Erik, his metallic claws fully extended, but Erik somersaulted out of the way.

"Well, there's one mutant ability," Xavier muttered, "Enhanced agility…"

Erik landed behind Wolverine, the temperamental mutant turning around and slashing at him, but only cutting through air.

"Ah, disappearing…" the Institute's founder said, "another ability."

"So that's how he does it," Kurt remarked.

As Wolverine continuously attempted an attack on the Phantom, Erik revealed another ability as he began throwing small fireballs at his opponent. Storm watched it all, amused with someone even Wolverine had a hard time touching. Aside from Sabertooth, Wolverine was a challenge to out maneuver; Erik was as worthy an opponent as Wolverine's greatest foe.

"Wow, this guy is a real freak," Wolverine muttered.

Erik had heard him and was not at all happy, a darkness engulfed the Danger Room, Erik standing in the center, rage burning in his icy blue eyes. He had taken a fighting stance, legs spread, arms bent, hands clenched; the three mutants were clear to see, but all around them was pitch black.

As Erik's restraint on his temper broke, his rage taking over, the very ground shook and, removing a dagger from a hidden pocket on his person, he attacked Wolverine head-on. In itself, that was not a smart move, not against Wolverine, but Erik was a force to be reckoned with when he lost control. Wolverine defended himself, getting a few slashes of his own, his claws making contact with Erik's clothing through to his flesh. But the former Opera Ghost did not stop his onslaught, his dagger tearing the other mutant's flesh here and there. Seeing the danger her colleague was in, Storm tried to intervene and flew in to stop Erik, but he sensed her coming. He turned to her for a second, throwing his hand out toward her and a gust of air forced her back. Wolverine had taken that opportunity to swipe at Erik, his clothes tearing at Erik's unmasked cheek. The enraged creature that had taken over turned back to his attacker and, turning his hand palm up, raised it up, seeming to lift Wolverine with it without even touching him.

Apparently Erik also had some kind of telekinesis and had used it to lift Wolverine into the air and send him flying into the unseen wall. Xavier could see that Erik had completely lost control, that something else had taken over, and that Storm and Wolverine's lives may be in peril. Closing his eyes, he attacked Erik mentally, as he would his younger brother, Juggernaut, with mind blasts. Immediately, Erik stopped his assaults, bringing his hands to cradle his head, his eyes clenched shut, yelling in pain. Xavier continued this until Erik was on his knees, the darkness subsiding, more or less harmless, his darker side was subdued, and released his hold on Erik's mind. The Phantom remained on his knees, hands on the floor, his head bowed, gasping for air before passing out. Wolverine rose from the floor, a hand to his head, Storm descending to the ground, both relieved but confused.

"What…" Wolverine began, "was that all about?"

"I'm not absolutely sure, Logan," the professor answered, entering the Danger Room itself with the other mutants in tow, "Though it may have had something to do with your remark."

Erik was brought up to the hospital ward where Kurt, once he had changed out of his uniform, sat by his side.

"Hey, Professor?" he asked.

"Yes, Kurt?" Xavier answered.

"How could he have been asleep," the blue mutant went on, "for 123 years? I mean the oldest person was like 114 and they _looked_ old! But Erik…!"

"Calm down, Kurt," the professor said, "Perhaps it was more a comatose state he rose from than an actual sleep. People can lay in comas for years without aging, but still very much a live. I suspect his state was more similar to that."


	5. An Unstable Mentality

Erik woke to find himself in a room he did not recognize, various wounds on his body dressed, trying to remember how he got here. He'd been in the Danger Room sparring with Wolverine, firing small fireballs at him as he had once done with _le vicomte_. From there, everything was a blank; he had no memory of what had happened between then and now. He experienced such blackouts before: the first time when Father Mansart told him animals had no souls and then when he'd lost Christine. He barely remembered his desperate acts of kidnap and attempted murder; it had all seemed a dream once he had regained himself. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what had happened in the Danger Room earlier. How had he gotten hurt, how had he gotten here? The sound of the door opening gave him a start as he turned his head in the direction of it.

"Ah, Erik," Xavier said, wheeling himself to Erik's bedside, "You've woken up."

"_Oui_,_ professeur_," he affirmed.

"Erik," the professor sighed, clasping his hands in front of him, "What happened in there today?"

"In where? What do you mean?" he asked.

"In the Danger Room, while we were testing you. What happened?"

"I… I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Erik sighed, sitting up and putting a hand to his head, "I recall throwing fireballs at _Monsieur_ Logan…"

"Please, Erik, no need to refer to your teammates by such formal terms."

The Phantom nodded, "After that, I remember nothing."

"You sincerely do not recall anything after that." Xavier saw no lies in his eyes or his mind, "Has that ever happened before?"

"When _Pere_ Mansart told me animals had no souls… I don't remember doing anything, but I must have, or he wouldn't have exorcized me. I think I hurt my mother somehow."

Yes, Xavier remembered seeing the exorcism in Erik's mind, saw how frightened, confused, and angered the boy had been. The priest had been superstitious and ignorant, thinking the poor child was possessed by a demon.

"And…" Erik continued, but hesitated, "When I heard Christine's plans to run from me, to leave me without so much as a good-bye… I lost control. When all was said and done, it seemed nothing more than a horrible dream. I hardly recall my desperate acts: kidnapping her, nearly murdering her lover. None of it is absolutely clear."

"I see," Xavier replied, "It is apparent that you are afflicted with some kind of mental illness, the question then is what?"

"NO!" Erik yelled, preparing to bolt.

"Erik!" Xavier exclaimed, grasping his patient's arm, "Calm down!"

"You…" Erik glared at the professor, "you're going to lock me up, just like Barye tried to. You're going to have me locked away!"

"No, Erik, listen to me. Calm yourself and listen. I'll do no such thing, in this day and age there are treatments. Therapy, counseling, medications that can help stabilize such an illness. It cannot be cured, but it can be helped and that's all I'm going to do is help you. I may have seen your mind, your past and memories, but that does nothing to tell me how you think or any indication of what you may be afflicted with. I would like to evaluate your mentality."

"Evaluate…?"

"I simply want to give you a few tests so we can pinpoint your illness. There are a vast amount of them and we must see what matches your mentality so we can properly treat it. We must be able to make a proper diagnosis; grievous things can happen if you are misdiagnosed and given the wrong medications."

"I do not want any of this."

"Erik… left untreated, you are very dangerous as your past and your actions have shown. You are prone to violence and you possess a very quick, very violent temper. You could easily injure anyone else that resides here, possibly even kill them. You may have killed Logan or Ororo, or both today if I hadn't stopped you."

"I… I almost…?"

"Yes, Erik, you were out of control, even Logan was hard pressed to fend you off. You are dangerous in a tantrum like that. You need psychiatric help, probably even medication which will help stabilize you. I can't help you if you do not cooperate and if you cannot be helped, the safety of everyone, even Kurt, is in danger… from you. I know you don't mean to hurt anyone, but when you are pushed too far you could whether you mean it or not. You are a danger to yourself as well as others, Erik, and I fear for both yourself and the others."

"I know I need help, but…"

"Good, that is the first step to getting it, admitting you need help. Now, it is the middle of the night, get some rest and we'll start in the morning. And I do expect you to be downstairs at breakfast with everyone else, do you understand?"

"_Oui_, _professeur_."

"Good, now get some sleep. Good night, Erik."

"_Bon nuit_."

He laid down and almost immediately fell asleep, but his dreams were not peaceful, they were filled with nightmares long past. As Xavier was going down the hall, away from the medical unit, he sensed Erik's uneasy sleep.

_Kurt, wake up._

"Huh? _Vas_?" Kurt sat bolt upright when he heard the voice inside his head.

_Kurt, perhaps you could sit by Erik's bedside. His dreams are anything but sweet and I think you being there would calm him. He needs to be rested._

"Yeah," the blue mutant yawned, "OK, Professor."

_You're sure you don't mind?_

"Nah, I don't mind. What're friends for?"

Kurt walked out of his room to the medical unit where Erik tossed and turned in one of the beds.

"Erik," Kurt whispered, "Hey, man, wake up."

Erik jerked awake when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking around panicked, his pale blue eyes meeting the pale yellow orbs.

"It's OK, man, relax," the blue figure assured him.

"Kurt?" he asked, "What're you doing here?"

"You're having trouble sleeping, I thought I could, y'know, calm you down," the Fuzzy Dude answered, pulling up a chair, "Think it'll work?"

"Yes, just until I fall asleep. You need sleep, too."

Erik once again rested his head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep, then Kurt got up, about to flick the switch off on his way out.

"Leave the light on," Erik mumbled.


	6. First Impressions

The next morning was a school day, so the younger mutants went to school while the older bunch sat down for breakfast. Their college classes had been cancelled for the day due to some kind of teacher conference. Kurt was digging into some scrambled eggs while Kitty was once again commenting on how fattening sausage was. Suddenly Kitty stopped in the middle of a sentence, she and Rogue turning to the doorway. All conversation stopped as everyone else turned to see what they were staring at, even Kurt turned with his mouth full.

"Oh, hey Erik!" he greeted, before swallowing what was in his mouth.

He nodded in return, feeling quite awkward and fighting down anger with Rogue, Kitty, Scott and Jean staring at him. He knew they meant nothing by it, it just brought back memories of being locked in a cage with everyone staring at his deformed face. They were just surprised he was actually downstairs joining their company.

Logan quirked an eyebrow as Erik sat beside Kurt, still bitter about yesterday's incident.

"Well, look who's out of his hole," he remarked.

"Like, no kidding," Kitty put in.

"I half expected you not to come down, Erik," Xavier said.

"So, what dragged you down?" Rogue asked.

"Professor Xavier requested my presence," Erik replied, keeping his temper in check.

"Want something?" Kurt asked, reaching for the dish of scrambled eggs.

"No, thank you," was the polite refusal.

"C'mon, man, you hardly eat anything," his new found friend commented, giving him a plate of food anyway, "Besides it's good."

Everyone went back to their food, the smell of which was making Erik realize how hungry he was and persuading him to eat, the students casting glances his way.

"So," Jean, sitting beside Scott across from Erik, began, "Kitty and Rogue said you're the one who sometimes sings at night."

"Yes," Erik replied, "That would indeed have been me. My apologies if it disturbs anyone."

"Oh no," Kitty laughed, "We just didn't know who it was."

"That's all," the red-head smiled.

"You've got a real nice voice," Kitty went on, "It's nice to listen to."

"Erik," Xavier said from the head of the table, "I've been meaning to ask you, out of simple curiosity. When exactly were you born?"

"Hmm, let me think," Erik tapped his chin with the end of his fork, "I'm not sure of the exact date as my birthday was never celebrated…"

"Like, why not?" Kitty interrupted.

"My birth was not something to celebrate," he turned to her, "Seeing as my mother hated me so."

"She hated you?" Scott queried, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Mm-hmm," was Erik's answer, "From the moment I was born."

"Why would someone hate their own child?" Jean wondered.

"Because…" the Phantom hesitated, "Aside from Kurt and Professor Xavier, does anyone else know why I wear a mask?"

"I'll bet he's deformed," Rogue put in, "like the _Phantom of the Opera_."

"Exactly," Erik nodded.

"No way!" Kitty exclaimed, then turned to Rogue, "How'd you know?"

"I didn't!" she said, "It was just a guess, and not one that I seriously meant!"

"I…" Kurt began, but Erik slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Ix-nay, Urt-kay," he warned.

"Kurt, you been teaching him Pig Latin or somethin'?" Rogue asked.

"I've been teaching him a few things," Kurt shrugged sheepishly.

"Anyway," Erik put in, going back to the original topic, "My mother was a beautiful woman, if spoiled and shallow. Thus she loathed me due to my deformities. I believe she would've killed me at birth if Father Mansart hadn't stopped her, though she would've been right to have done so."

"Don't talk like that," Jean said, as Erik lowered his head.

"Back then," he went on, "People had no understanding of such things. Those who were deformed or mildly retarded were shunned, considered less than human, undeserving of a family name, hence the reason I have none. All my life, I was treated and seen as a freak, people feared me and I came to understand how to manipulate that fear, to use it against humanity. I didn't care whether it was wrong or not, so far as humanity was concerned I wasn't one of them. I was no better than an animal or a monster, so why should I have obeyed their laws?"

"Kurt mentioned you don't like being touched," Scott put in, to which Erik shot the Elf a glare, "How come?"

"I was abused and maltreated as a child and young adult," Erik answered, "The only times my mother so much as touched me was to strike me for something I'd done wrong, which was often. I never know when one means to hurt me. It's the only form of physical contact with another human I've ever really known."

"But when were you born, Erik?" Xavier pressed.

"Yes, I neglected to answer that," Erik again paused in thought, "Again, I'm not sure of the exact date, perhaps the 14th of June 1830."

"1830?!" Kitty exclaimed as everyone looked at the new addition, "No way!"

"Impossible!" Rogue gasped.

"Erik may have lapsed into a coma years ago," Xavier explained, "The body slows considerably, one commonly being mistaken for dead."

"A plausible, if improbable explanation," Erik objected, "But then I'd have been unconscious for 122 years!"

"Since 1881?" Rogue asked, "That's when that whole play took place."

"What play?" Erik returned.

"A musical," Xavier explained, "based off of Gaton Leroux's original novel, _The Phantom of the Opera_."

"Damn it!" Erik cursed, "Those damned managers probably sold the story to this Leroux for profit. Once again another made money off of _my_ _misfortune_! Why can't people just leave well enough alone?"

"Erik…" Kurt tried.

"I try hiding from the world," he moaned, "And someone publishes my story for the whole world to know! All I wanted was some peace and to be left alone… People can't even leave me be when I'm supposed to be dead…"

"If it makes you feel any better," Jean made an attempt at cheering him up, "People believe it's just a fictional story."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Erik muttered.

"Well, it should," Kitty replied, "I mean if they think you're not real, then they don't know that you, like, totally exist."

"That's a comfort at least," Erik responded.

"Erik," Xavier said, clearing his throat, "Come, you and I have business to attend."

"We can harass him later," Kurt told the others, jokingly with a mischievous grin.

"_Merci beaucoup_, Kurt," Erik said sarcastically as he rose to follow Xavier.

The two made their way to Xavier's office, Erik holding the door open for the disabled founder of the Institute. They spent hours, a good part of the day, simply talking, allowing Xavier a clearer idea of Erik's mentality. It sounded like he was tormented by manic depression but some aspects of Erik's mentality and personality did not match the criteria for depression.

"Perhaps," Xavier said, taking a book from his shelves, a volume of mental illnesses, "you have something that is parallel to bipolar depression, even misdiagnosed as such, but is something completely different," he flipped through the pages till he found what he was looking for, "Here it is."

"What is it?" Erik asked, taking the book to see the article.

"It's called Asperger's Syndrome," Xavier replied, "It is not well known and often times misdiagnosed as depression or ADD/ADHD."

"And those are what now?" Erik looked up.

"Attention defecit disorder and attention defecit hyperactivity disorder."

The article was only a paragraph long, listed under autism and described a disorder that resembled the mental disorders Xavier had mentioned but with several different symptoms.

"I think that's where we'll end it today," Xavier said, as Erik rose to leave.

"Thank you, _Professeur_," Erik turned to him briefly before exiting the room, "I think I will try doing a little research."


End file.
